


> SHOOT RIGHT

by amporasbitch



Category: Real Person Fiction, Youtube RPF
Genre: A Date With Markiplier, Angst, Blood, Gore, M/M, More tags will be added with each ending, Multiple Endings, Suicide, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-14 04:57:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14128566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amporasbitch/pseuds/amporasbitch
Summary: Valentine's Day was supposed to be special. Yandereplier was supposed to spend the day with his senpai. But then Mark decided to make "A Date with Markiplier," and the fans decided to shoot right. Now Dark is dead, and it's anyone's guess as to whether or not he'll come back.





	1. > SHOOT RIGHT

**Author's Note:**

> Back in February, I saw a lot of people exploring this idea with Darkstache, so I decided to do it with my Dark-related OTP! I know I'm late, but when am I ever on time for these things lmao
> 
> Enjoy!

Yandereplier had been looking forward to Valentine’s Day ever since he was created, but that anticipation had grown tenfold since Darkiplier became his boyfriend. The new year had hardly begun before Yandere was counting down the days and repeatedly bringing up the holiday to Dark. Dark, for his part, rather disliked the holiday and found it pointless, but one look at Yandere’s hopeful, excited face made him decide to grin and bear the holiday when it came. He’d hid his distaste for Valentine’s Day and assured Yandere that the day would be theirs to spend together.

That had been the plan, at least, until Mark had planned “A Date with Markiplier.”

Yandere had been furious. How dare Mark try to take Valentine’s Day from him and his senpai?? But Dark had placated him, assuring him that they’d still have time to make the day as romantic as Yandere wanted after the project was done with. Besides, it would give Dark that much more attention and power, and Yandere didn’t want Dark to lose out on that. So off Dark went, and Yandere had been left at Ego Inc. until the videos came out.

Not that he isn’t a little excited for them. He has to admit that he’s looking forward to seeing Dark in action, and he’s on the edge of his seat refreshing the webpage until the video finally pops up on Mark’s YouTube channel.

Yandere hates the first view videos, too weirded out by the idea of being on a date with Mark to really enjoy the humor. But before long he gets to choose between a romantic play and a horror play, and Yandere’s heart skips a beat. This _has_ to be what Mark needed Dark for.

It is. Oh, it _definitely_ is.

Yandere is positively swooning as he watches the video, watches Dark in all his terrifying glory. The power in his voice, the deep echo of it, his poise and control, his animalistic rage, even the alluring way he rolls his neck that Yandere goes crazy for. When the next four choices pop up, Yandere recognizes three of them easily as being Dark’s old appearances (of course he would, he’s watched them a hundred times each). As much as he enjoys them, he wants to know what else there is to see, so he clicks the fourth option, the only unfamiliar one.

It’s as incredible as the first, showing off Dark in the best way possible. Yandere watches with a wide, happy smile and starry eyes, unable to stifle squeals of excitement as the video goes on. He can’t help but feel prideful; after all, that’s _his_ boyfriend, that’s _his_ senpai, that’s-

Huh.

Kinda stupid.

Of course Mark _has_ to show back up, of course Mark _has_ to take all the coolness out of the video. Yandere leans back in his seat with a huff, the mood now sufficiently ruined. But his interest perks back up when the gun comes out and heightens to its previous level when the next choices are revealed.

“Shoot left” or “shoot right.”

Yandere rewinds the video, listens closely to each “Mark.” The decision is easy once he’s heard them both, and he clicks left without another thought.

And oh, Dark is good at acting like Mark, but Yandere knows him enough to see through it. When the camera pans up to Dark all in black and red and blue, he’s not surprised. But it’s a lovely ending, and Yandere knows there won’t be another ending in the video that’s nearly as good.

But that makes Yandere wonder.

What if the viewer shoots right?

But he can’t afford to think like that. There’s no way the fans would choose to kill Dark. After the videos Mark made with him, how could they? Even if they click right, they’ll probably click left right after, trying to get every ending possible. They’re going to eat the videos up just like Yandere did, they’re going to write and draw and make so much content, make Dark so much stronger – right?

But a few hours pass, enough time for the fans to watch and digest “A Date with Markiplier,” and Dark doesn’t come back. Wilford does, though, and Yandere had almost forgot that he’d been a part of it, too. He’d been too worried to watch his part, but he will later, once Wilford puts his mind at ease.

“Onii-san, why isn’t Dark with you?” Yandere asks him.

“Hello to you, too,” Wilford replies with a sound halfway between a huff and a chuckle, “And what do you mean? I thought Dark was here.”

“No, he isn’t,” Yandere says, gears turning in his head.

“Huh,” Wilford says, screwing up his expression as he thinks, “I haven’t seen him since filming wrapped up, wonder where he went?”

“Wil,” Yandere says, voice quiet, “Take me to where the “Freedom” video was filmed. Please.”

“You think he’s there?” Wilford asks, “I suppose he could be.”

With a pop and a puff of smoke, Wilford teleports himself and Yandere to the empty lot where the scene was filmed. Yandere stares at the ground, afraid to look up.

“Looks like you were right,” Wilford says. He whistles. “That one looks like it’ll hurt in the morning.”

Yandere’s head snaps up sharply at that, and his eyes widen at what he sees.

Dark, sprawled on the ground. Dark, with a pool of blood around him. Dark, completely still and limp.

“No,” Yandere gasps, running for Dark. He practically stumbles to the ground beside him, scraping his knees in the process but hardly noticing. Up close, he can see the bullet hole in Dark’s chest, see how his eyes are wide open and glazed over. He cups Dark’s face in his hands, fingers curling into his hair. Dark’s always run cold, his skin has always been gray, but he feels too cold now, looks too pale. Even if Dark’s heart barely beats, his chest normally still rises and falls as he breathes. But it’s motionless now, and Yandere doesn’t have to put an ear to his chest to know his heart is just as still. His eyes well up with tears. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.

“Yami, please,” he chokes out, hands caressing Dark’s cheeks, “Wake up, you have to wake up.”

Dark doesn’t move. Yandere’s breath hitches as he starts to sob. This can’t be real. It can’t end like this. How could someone as powerful as Dark get killed so simply? How could it take nothing more than a bullet? Why had the fans caused this? Why did they kill him? _Why did they kill him?_

Wilford walks up to Yandere, but the younger ego is too caught up in grief to notice.

“No, no, Yami, please,” Yandere sobs, “Don’t leave me, you promised you wouldn’t leave me!”

Yandere can’t help but think of every time Dark made that promise, every time Yandere had a nightmare or a breakdown or some insecurity that wouldn’t go away.

_Don’t cry, darling. Don’t be afraid. I will never leave you._

_Do you promise?_

_I promise. I’ll always be right here with you._

Dark had kept that promise for so long, he was supposed to keep it for so much longer. Today was supposed to be amazing. But the stupid fans, stupid Mark, that stupid video –

Yandere is suddenly startled when Wilford puts a hand his shoulder.

“C’mon, kiddo, don’t cry,” he tells him, “Darky’ll be up again before you know it! He’s not gonna let a little ol’ bullet keep him down for long.”

Yandere considers this. It’s true that death means very little to someone like Dark, a figment who survives off attention and can be brought back from the edge of death with nothing but memory. Even notoriety is enough to keep him powerful, so even if the fans hate him enough to kill him, that hate will bring him back, right?

But Yandere finds it hard to believe. Something like this has never happened before. Egos have died from causes unrelated to the fans, from fights or freak accidents, but that attention always brought them back. What happens if attention is what killed them in the first place? And Wilford’s assurances don’t mean much; he reacts like this to the death of ordinary humans, too.

“The f-fans did this,” Yandere whimpers, not looking at Wilford, “Th-they killed him. How is h-he going to come b-back from that?”

“You know Dark, he always comes back!” Wilford insists. Seeing how upset Yandere still is, he continues a little more softly, “How about you dry those tears and I’ll take us home? I’m sure Dark would be annoyed if he found out we just left him out here.”

“O-okay,” Yandere sniffles. Wilford has a point, at least. They very well can’t just leave Dark to the elements. Still, Yandere remains knelt on the ground, Dark’s head cradled in his lap, as Wilford takes them home. Somehow, he manages not to cry for a little while for Wilford’s benefit.

But it’s hard when Wilford waltzes off to tell everyone else about what happened, leaving Yandere in Dark’s room, with Dark laying on his bed. Yandere has since closed the older ego’s eyes, but Dark is still too cold and too motionless, still has that hole in his chest and blood soaked in his nice jacket, giving the once-stunning black fabric an ugly red sheen. It’s being left alone, _alone_ ( _dear god he’s alone_ ) with Dark’s dead body is what makes Yandere break down again, much worse this time. Yandere sobs so hard it’s painful and clenches Dark’s blood-stiffened jacket with white-knuckled hands. There’s a rational voice deep down inside him that reminds him that Dark’s survived death before, but it’s drowned out by his fear, fear that the fans won’t let him come back this time, fear that they’ve taken Mark’s video not as entertainment but as opportunity, and are now taking that opportunity to destroy Dark. The situation is too real now that they’re home, the place they should be safest, and not in some random parking lot.

For god’s sake, it’s _Valentine’s Day_. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This was supposed to make Dark stronger, Mark said, Dark _promised_ –

_I will never leave you._

But Yandere can’t blame Dark for this, can’t be mad at him for breaking his promise. Not when he’s dead in front of him. Not when he misses him so much it feels like there’s a hole in his own chest to match Dark’s. He cries, edging on a panic attack as he sits on the bed, holding Dark close. Eventually he finds that if he keeps his eyes closed and imagines the sound of Dark breathing under his own wails, he can almost pretend that Dark is merely asleep. Somehow that makes him feel worse.

Before long he falls into a panicked haze, sitting wide-eyed but unseeing, still sobbing but unable to hear anything but the roaring of his own blood in his ears. If anyone comes into the room and tries to calm him, Yandere doesn’t know it. There’s nothing but the thoughts in his head, circular and scared and sad.

_If I lose Dark I have nothing. Dark can’t die. He’s so strong, he’s always been so strong. He promised he’d never leave me. This video was supposed to be good. It was supposed to make him stronger. Today was supposed to be perfect. It’s ruined. Mark ruined everything. Dark promised. We’re figments, we’re supposed to live forever. We’re supposed to have happily ever after. I love him so much. I love him so much I can’t live without him. If he’s dead forever then so am I. He promised he wouldn’t leave me. He promised. He promised. I love you. You promised. I love you I love you don’t leave me oh god please don’t leave me I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you–_

Yandere eventually snaps out of his breakdown, still shaking and teary, a headache beginning to form. It feels like his lungs have been turned inside out, and his hand hurts. He looks down and realizes he’s been holding onto Dark’s hand this whole time, and holding on much too tight. His knuckles are white and numb, but he can feel that he’s managed to break some bones in Dark’s hand. He winces, unclenching his hand from around Dark’s, hissing at the pain radiating from his fingers as he flexes them.

“S-sorry, Yami,” Yandere can’t help but say as he rubs his aching hand. He’s out of tears for now, but he’d still be crying if he could. He sighs shakily. “You promised y-you wouldn’t leave me, b-but…” He takes a deep breath. “I forgive you. I know you d-didn’t mean to, so…” He leans down to lay beside Dark on the bed. “I w-won’t leave you either, senpai. I’m staying here until y-you wake up. I promise I’ll wait for you.” He presses a kiss to Dark’s cheek, and his heart aches at how lifeless the skin beneath his lips feels.

“I love you, senpai, so please come back soon.”

~~~

For the first few days, it isn’t so terrible. Yandere keeps his promise: Anytime he isn’t eating or otherwise occupied with something necessary to his wellbeing, he’s in Dark’s room. He takes manga into the room to read as he sits by him, sometimes plays handheld games or watches the room’s TV, all while curled at Dark’s side. Even in the state Dark’s in, Yandere finds it feels better to be near him rather than away. He finds this out on the very first night, when Wilford barges into the room and insists that Yandere go to sleep in his own bed. The resulting nightmare sends him right back to Dark’s room before the night is out, and Wilford isn’t there to stop him from falling asleep holding onto Dark’s arm (though Yandere does see Wilford in the morning, catches him staring at Dark with furrowed brows and crossed arms, muttering to himself that “this isn’t how it went last time.” Yandere doesn’t know what he means but doesn’t ask). In the meantime, the other egos postpone the scheduled meetings, knowing Dark would chew them out for holding them in his absence. Dr. Iplier goes to Dark’s room once or twice, partly to see how Dark’s healing is coming along but mostly evaluating Yandere’s condition. He sees how the younger ego’s eyes are always red-rimmed, how his smile wavers, but his irises are still milk chocolate brown and he’s in good physical shape, so Dr. Iplier leaves him be.

But things get worse as the days go by and Dark doesn’t show any sign of waking. Yandere stops reading or doing other activities in Dark’s room, instead preferring to cuddle up to him and watch him, nearly unblinking. He has to see the moment when Dark wakes up, doesn’t he? Likewise, he stops leaving the room to eat and doesn’t talk to anyone but Dark. He begins to hallucinate, imagines he can hear Dark talk back, imagines the tell-tale ringing of Dark’s aura filling the room. He starts getting angry when others try to enter and talk to him, so he locks the bedroom door (of course he knows how; he learned ages ago how to pick the lock open, after all). His world narrows from Ego Inc. to Dark’s room to Dark’s bed, where he and his senpai are the only people who matter, and Dark’s the only person he needs. Yandere is too preoccupied to notice the other egos growing worried and restless. They talk amongst themselves about how it’s never taken Dark this long to regenerate before and begin to wonder privately what they’ll do if Dark never comes back. Wilford refuses to acknowledge the possibility even as his mental state deteriorates every hour Dark stays dead.

Dr. Iplier is also particularly worried, anxious to examine Dark and see if healing is a possibility anymore and to check up on Yandere’s condition. Eventually, he decides to take matters into his own hands: He talks to Chrome and enlists his help in getting into Dark’s bedroom. He’d go to Wilford, who can teleport, but the man is too deep in his own head to be useful. So instead, Chrome breaks the door open, and he and Dr. Iplier step inside.

Yandere startles at the intrusion, quickly turning to anger. How dare they come into Dark’s room without his permission, after Yandere made it clear that no one else was allowed in? He yells, screams at them to get out, but neither are listening. Through the haze in his now-crimson eyes, Yandere can’t see the way Chrome’s expression tightens in concern when he sees him. He can’t hear the calming words Dr. Iplier is saying over the ringing in his ears. Dark’s ringing? No, he’s still dead, but it _must_ be. It reaches a fever pitch of sound as he screams at Dr. Iplier and Chrome, because they want him to leave, they want Yandere to leave his senpai, _how could Yandere ever leave his senpai?? He’ll kill everyone in the world before he leaves his senpai._

But despite his fury, he’s weak from his days without food or sleep, and Chrome is able to grab him before he can attempt to kill anyone. Yandere kicks and struggles in Chrome’s grip, still screaming for him and Dr. Iplier to get out, get out, _get out, can’t you see I have to stay with him, you can’t take me away from senpai, what if he wakes up and I’m not there, if you don’t let me go I’ll kill you both, let me go, let me go, get out, get out, get out, I’m not leaving senpai, I’m not leaving senpai, get your fucking hands off me I’m not going an…anywhere…_

Yandere is so wrapped up in his rage that he doesn’t even feel Dr. Iplier’s syringe poking into his neck, but he certainly feels the sedative when it starts taking effect in his system. Before long, his yelling and struggling die down and he slumps in Chrome’s arms. Chrome lifts him up effortlessly, and Dr. Iplier directs him to take Yandere to the clinic while he has a look at Dark.

Once Chrome has Yandere settled in a clinic bed, he does a full-body scan of the other ego. He’s no doctor, but he figures he could at least give Dr. Iplier a little less work (he chooses to make that his reason, tries not to think about how deeply worried he is for Yandere). There’s nothing he doesn’t expect: Yandere is malnourished, dehydrated, exhausted, and half his muscles are cramped and twisted from laying in the same position for so long. But Chrome’s scan can’t look into Yandere’s mind, and he can only guess at what awful things are going on in there.

When Dr. Iplier comes into the clinic, he finds Chrome sitting at Yandere’s bedside, with a desperate sort of expression that reminds Dr. Iplier of how young the android is compared to the other egos. Chrome turns to Dr. Iplier as he approaches, immediately shifting his expression into something more neutral.

“Well?” he asks.

~~~

Meanwhile, the Host, two floors down in his library, looks up from his writing and speaks to no one.

“Well indeed, Reader. What will it be? You killed him, are you going to bring him back?”

> YES

> NO


	2. > NO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > SHOOT RIGHT
> 
> > NO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look befORE YOU ALL KILL ME 1) I haven't finished writing the good end yet, 2) I wanted the fic to end on a good note anyway, and 3) if you get the good end the first time, what's the point of playing again? :3
> 
> That said, PLEASE mind the new tags. The stuff I wrote in here might be some of the most fucked-up things I've written on this website (if you've read WERIH or "Friends, Family, or Lovers" you know that's saying something).
> 
> Enjoy(?)

> NO

“Well?” Chrome asks.

Dr. Iplier shakes his head.

“He’s not going to come back,” he says, somber and quiet, “It’s been weeks, and the bullet wound is the same as it was when he first got shot. If he was going to heal, there’d be some progress by now.”

Chrome’s eyebrows knit together. He was never Dark’s biggest fan, but Dark is still one of them, not to mention the leader of them all. Chrome is young, he’s never seen a figment die like this before.

“What happens now?” he asks.

“I…” Dr. Iplier shudders. “I have to tell the others. I have to tell everyone.” He begins to pace as it sinks in. “Dark’s dead, the others have to know. Wilford…fuck, Wilford might kill someone. He might kill _me_. Someone has to watch Yan…”

“I can watch him,” Chrome says, “And I can put out an alert for a meeting.”

Dr. Iplier pauses, surprised to hear the most crochety of the Googles offer help.

“Yes, please do, thank you,” he replies. He sighs. “This is bad. This is really bad.”

Chrome nods as he sends a mental ping to his brothers, letting them know that a group meeting is to be called.

Dr. Iplier leaves the clinic, still muttering.

Yandere sleeps a dreamless sleep.

~~~

Yandere misses the meeting, which is for the best. Dr. Iplier relays the news, and despite how uncertain they all were to begin with, they can’t help but be shocked. Wilford takes the news especially poorly, putting a dozen new holes in the conference room. It takes all three attending Googles to restrain him, but by some miracle no one is shot. It takes quite a long time for the meeting to calm down, and Dr. Iplier is beyond drained by the end of it.

When he walks back to the clinic to see if Yandere has woken up yet, he finds him sobbing into Chrome’s chest. Chrome, meanwhile, holds Yandere with a pained expression that he doesn’t bother disguising when he turns to Dr. Iplier. The doctor bites his lip as he walks over.

“Oh, kid,” he says softly, sitting down beside Yandere and Chrome. He lays a gentle hand on Yandere’s shoulder, and feels it shake as he cries. “I…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t…don’t say it,” Yandere chokes out through his sobs, “P-please don’t say it.”

Dr. Iplier’s mouth snaps shut. It’s in his nature as a figment to say what he’s about to say, so doesn’t let himself say anything at all. Chrome is silent, too, and the pair comfort Yandere as best they can.

Several days go by as Yandere cries almost nonstop, curled up in a clinic bed with half a dozen IVs in his arm. He starts to recover despite himself under Dr. Iplier’s care, and Chrome is practically glued to his side the entire time. Dr. Iplier and Chrome both know that Wilford is always the best at comforting Yandere, but they also know that they can’t go to him for help right now, not when the man is barely himself.

Since the meeting, Wilford has become more erratic than ever. He paces, mutters, twitches, and doesn’t respond when others try to talk to him. Before long he ends up in Dark’s room, taking Yandere’s place there. But instead of cuddling Dark and talking to him quietly, Wilford _rages_. He screams at Dark so loud the whole building can hear, curses him for doing this, for dying on him _again_ , or else he laughs, letting out peals of deranged hysterical laughter because surely it’s another joke, isn’t it? It has to be another joke, Dr. Iplier is in it, and it certainly was a fine prank, but it’s gone on too long, it’s not funny anymore, quit joking around and wake up Dark it’s not funny wake up come back not again _not again not again not again it’s been ten hours it’s been so much more than ten hours Dark you asshole you self-absorbed bastard don’t you fucking do this to me–_

As angry as he gets, somehow he always stops short of violence towards Dark. He’ll punch the wall or fire into the ceiling, but he never touches Dark. Anyone who enters the room to talk sense into him is fair game, however, so the other egos mostly leave him alone.

Eventually, though, Wilford and Yandere both calm down, and the other egos decide it’s finally time to bury Dark before either of them get too upset again.

When Dr. Iplier leaves that meeting and enters the clinic, this time he finds Yandere laying in his hospital bed, staring at the ceiling with tired, half-lidded eyes. Chrome is sitting nearby, silently watching as per usual.

“Hey, Yan,” the doctor begins as he approaches Yandere’s bedside, “How are you feeling?”

Yandere says nothing. He doesn’t even look at Dr. Iplier.

“Look, Yandere, we’re having the funeral tomorrow,” he says, knowing he doesn’t have to – and shouldn’t – clarify for whom, “Do you want to be there?”

There’s a long pause as Yandere closes his eyes. When he opens them, his blank expression remains unchanged.

“Of course,” he says, voice flat and monotone and so unlike Yandere that it hurts Dr. Iplier to hear.

~~~

The funeral happens with every ego in attendance but Wilford, who couldn’t bear to see his oldest friend go under the ground. It’s somber and mostly quiet, though the most sensitive among them can’t help but cry.

All but Yandere.

Throughout the entire sad ceremony, Yandere’s expression remains blank. His eyes are glazed and half-lidded, but they stay dry. His lips are a straight line, never turning even slightly up or down. His steps are measured and quiet, his arms at his sides, body language stiff. He doesn’t shed a single tear, doesn’t say a single word, doesn’t give Dark any last touch before he’s buried. He’s since healed up from his time spent not eating or sleeping, but he still looks like a ghost as he stands among the other egos, silent and nearly still. He stares at the ground where Dark is buried, remaining there even as the others leave. For nearly an hour he stays there.

Mourning.

Brooding.

Plotting.

Mark already knows what’s going on. He was shocked to hear of Dark’s death, and despite how much he and Dark hated each other, he still expressed sorrowful and guilt-stricken apologies to the other egos when he was told about it. Yandere doesn’t doubt Mark’s sincerity, but sincerity cannot raise the dead, nor can it make up for what death takes. An apology isn’t good enough. There needs to be something more.

Consolation.

Reparation.

Revenge.

And Yandere knows just how to get it.

The other egos, by now, are used to him leaving Ego Inc. and traveling through Los Angeles to have fun or let off steam. So no one thinks anything of it when he slinks away from Dark’s grave and disappears into the city.

~~~

Mark takes a moment to sit back and stretch for as he edits a video. He’s been at it for only an hour, but already he finds himself getting distracted by his thoughts as he works. Perhaps it’s because he’s editing footage of himself playing a horror game, but he can’t help thinking about Darkiplier.

It’s stunning to know that he’s dead. That something as simple as a Valentine’s video, intended to be goofy and lighthearted and a treat for the fans, was the thing that did it. It’s almost poetic; videos brought Dark into the world, and a video took him out of it. It’s sad, too. Mark didn’t like Dark, still doesn’t like him now that he’s gone, but he can’t help but feel a strange sort of sorrow. Maybe the fans were the ones who created him originally, but they only made him because Mark gave them the idea. In a way, Mark made him, and he hadn’t meant to cause his death. His friends have already told him it wasn’t his fault and that no one could’ve predicted this outcome, and objectively Mark knows it’s true, but he can’t help but feel responsible. It had been Dr. Iplier who told him, and Mark could hear in his voice how serious the situation is. Dark had led all the egos, who’s going to do that now? Mark’s first thought is Wilford, but having created him, he can’t imagine him as a very effective leader. So who, then? Mark doesn’t know. He suspects Dr. Iplier doesn’t know either. The entire future of the egos is up in the air, all because of a video that, by all accounts, should’ve made Dark stronger.

He sighs to himself, shakes his head to clear his thoughts, and decides to go back to editing. He slips his headphones back on, but before he can unpause the footage he was looking at, he hears Chica running through the hall, hears her claws scrabbling on the hardwood. He takes his headphones off again, wondering if she might need to go out. Chica makes a deep sound, somewhere between a bark and a woof, and beneath it, Mark hears a door opening.

Wait, that can’t be right. He’s the only one in the house aside from Chica. He isn’t expecting any visitors, and even if he was, they wouldn’t be able to just come inside. This is Los Angeles; Mark can’t afford to leave his front door unlocked, and he never does.

He stands from his chair, walking to the door of the recording room he’s in and pressing an ear against it, trying to listen to whatever’s happening in the house more clearly. He knows he could hear better if he just opened the door, but he’s too nervous to. Chica continues to bark, sharper now, in a way that suggests whatever’s she’s seeing is unfamiliar to her.

Mark’s heart stops when, between Chica’s barks, he hears a voice telling her to hush.

He pulls away from the door and instinctively puts a hand over his mouth, hoping whoever’s here – whoever’s _invaded his home_ – doesn’t know he’s here. Hoping whoever’s here isn’t out for blood. The kitchen is within sight of the front entrance, his wallet’s on the counter there. It’d be a hassle to cancel and replace his cards, but the best-case scenario in his mind is whoever’s here snatching his wallet and leaving as quickly as they came. Mark hopes they don’t hurt Chica, who continues to bark and growl.

Until she stops.

Mark feels ice freezing his veins. Why did she stop barking? He can hear the person walking around still, no longer telling Chica to be quiet. Emotion rises in Mark’s throat. Is Chica hurt? Did this person break into his house and hurt his dog? _Or worse?_ Terror grabs hold of Mark’s heart, but he stays where he is, frozen in his recording room. He wants to go out and confront this son of a bitch, find out if Chica is alright, but he has no idea what he’d do if the other person started a fight. What if they’re armed? Mark hasn’t heard a gun go off, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have one. Or a knife, or a bat, or anything that could’ve silenced Chica quietly.

That thought makes Mark whimper from behind his hand, but he doesn’t move. He feels like a coward as he listens to whoever is in his house walk around a little more before the front door shuts.

Then, all is quiet.

Mark waits, silently counts to ten, before throwing open the door and running down the hall, rushing to the kitchen. He finds Chica laying on the floor, chewing something between her paws, blood spotting her neck and back.

“Chica!” Mark cries as he reaches her. He pats Chica all over, looking for injuries, not caring about getting blood on his hands.

But he finds nothing. Not a scratch. Chica looks at Mark blithely, tongue hanging out of her mouth, as though nothing is amiss at all. Mark finally looks at what she’s holding in her paws: A bone, rather like the rawhide ones he’s given her in the past, long and already pocked with Chica’s teeth marks on one end. Mark has never seen it before. Is that how the intruder got Chica to stop barking?

“No, no, you can’t have that, you don’t know where it’s been,” Mark says as he pulls the bone from between her paws. He chucks the bone in the trash and washes his hands, getting the blood from Chica’s fur off them. It occurs to him that if Chica is fine, then the blood wasn’t hers. Did Chica bite the intruder? He looks back at her. There’s a bit of red in her teeth and lips, but most of it is around her neck and on her back. It doesn’t add up, not to mention he’s never known Chica to bite before. He finishes washing his hands, drying them off on a dish towel before walking back to her.

“What the hell happened?” he asks, exhaling. The fear is wearing off, leaving Mark exhausted, not to mention confused. He peers at Chica as if he’s expecting her to answer him. In a way, she does, because it’s then that Mark sees something white at Chica’s neck, near the blood. Paper? He takes it, avoiding the blood (he’s wary of it now that he’s no longer worried for Chica), and finds a note tied on a string around Chica’s neck. It’s loose enough for him to simply tug over her head, and he does, looking at the bloodstained string and paper note now in his hands. He unfolds the note and finds a message written in black ink, letters scraggly, splotches of scribbled ink covering errors. He reads it:

_Mark,_

_If Yami taught me anything, it’s how to take revenge. I already know I can’t kill you: Without you, the channel dies and so do the others. But I can make you wish you were dead._

_You can see I left a present for Chica, and I left one for you, too. Check your doorstep._

_Sayonara,_

_Yandereplier_

Oh.

Oh no.

Mark thinks of the bone he took from Chica, the bone sitting in his kitchen trashcan, and feels sick.

He supposes he has no choice. He gets up on suddenly shaky legs and moves to the front door, letting the note fall out of his hand and flutter to the ground. Chica follows suit, padding after Mark nonchalantly. When he reaches the front door, he takes a deep breath, then grabs the doorknob and turns it before he can change his mind.

On the doorstep, partly covering the welcome mat, is a cardboard box. Chica sniffs it intently, but Mark pushes her away from it, ushering her back inside. He closes the door behind him, making sure not to lock himself out. He turns back to the box, and right as he does, takes in a breath through his nose. He reels, gags, almost pukes from the awful smell he catches coming from the box. He starts to tremble, as afraid as he was when Yandere was in his house, maybe more. He takes in a shuddering breath through his mouth, exhaling in a nervous sigh. He thinks again of that bone, and of the blood in Chica’s fur. He closes his eyes, willing the bile in his throat to settle back into his stomach. But Mark knows he can’t stand out her forever. For better or worse, he has to open that box. He bends down, takes the cardboard flaps, and pulls the box open.

Mark screams.

Resting inside the box is Amy’s severed head.

Her once-pretty face is frozen in an expression of horror and agony. Her once-beautiful brown eyes are wide open and glassy. Her mouth is twisted in a grimace. Her dark hair is splayed around her head. The ragged stump of her neck is just barely visible. Blood coats the bottom of the box, reaching out in a pool from her neck, staining parts of her deadly pale skin, slicking up the ends of her hair, stinking up the air.

Mark wails, howling with grief and fighting the urge to vomit, kneeling and sobbing on his doorstep as Chica whines from behind the front door.

~~~

The egos don’t find out until hours have passed, and Mark is still a wreck when he thinks to call Ego Inc.’s landline, screaming into the phone as soon as Google picks up. He’s so distraught he’s incomprehensible, and Google has to get Dr. Iplier to calm him over the phone, to get him to breathe and explain himself. Once he does, Google and Dr. Iplier can’t hide the horror they feel.

“Google, do you know when Yandere came back?” Dr. Iplier asks, voice wavering.

“Four hours and seventeen minutes ago,” Google answers, eyes wide as he forces out his typical monotone, “He was covered in blood, but that’s typical for him, I didn’t think anything of it…”

“We have to find him, make sure he’s still here,” Dr. Iplier says, beginning to pace, “Now that he’s done this there’s nothing he won’t do, the rest of Mark’s friends could be in danger.”

“I have sent out an alert to my brothers,” Google says, “They can put out an announcement and tell the others.”

Dr. Iplier nods before leaving to search for Yandere, Google going in a different direction to do the same.

Before long, the doctor runs into Chrome, looking around the building with a deeply worried expression, and they both run into Wilford, stumbling through the halls much more leisurely.

“He’s fine, of course he’s fine,” Wilford laughs, “He has to fine.”

Dr. Iplier and Chrome say nothing.

The three head to Yandere’s bedroom. If Yandere is there, then there’s no one else but then who he’d allow inside. But when they reach the door, they find a piece of paper taped there. The message is messy, blobs of ink covering unreadable, half-formed kanjis. The only parts readable are in romaji:

_Watakushi wa kare nashi de wa ikiraremasen._

_Suggoku gomen ne._

_-Yan_

Chrome’s eyes flash as he translates the words. His expression twists with pain, but before Dr. Iplier can ask what the message means, Chrome is breaking down the door.

They’re too late. Yandere lays on the ground, facing away from the door, curled around his katana and surrounded by a pool of blood.

Chrome curses, punches a hole into the wall. Dr. Iplier crumples where he stands. Wilford’s eyes widen even as he grins a tight-mouthed grin.

“We’re figments,” Wilford laughs, “He’ll be fine.”

“Wil…” Dr. Iplier manages as he begins to cry.

“He can’t be dead, he’s just…” Wilford takes a breath in, still grinning with shining eyes, “He’s pulling one over on us. Just like Dark. Ol’ Darky was too stubborn to admit it, but Yan is…Yan’s just pulling a prank. A joke. It’s a joke.” He barks out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. “It’s a joke. He’ll come back. He’s fine.”

“Wil, h-he’s not like you,” Dr. Iplier says, voice shaky and quiet, “He’s n-not popular like y-you are, and he…” He shudders. “He w-wanted to die, and putting th-those together…he w-won’t…”

“C’mon, Doc, he…” Wilford starts, grin faltering as his mind tries to make sense of the doctor’s words. “Chrome?” He turns to the android to back him up, but Chrome is facing the wall where he punched it, shoulders shaking. “No, that’s not right…Yan…” He stumbles forward and kneels next to Yandere, practically falling, cold blood sinking into the knees of his pants. “Yan, quit fooling around. Dark already made this joke, it’s not as funny the second time…” He swallows thickly as Yandere remains still. “Yan, kid, you can’t…you…” He grins again, more forced this time, as tears roll down his face. “Dark’s gone already, you wouldn’t leave me alone, would you? You wouldn’t leave your onii-san, right? Yan, c’mon, I know you, you wouldn’t…” His mouth turns down suddenly as he finds awful clarity in the fog of mania. “Yan, kid, otouto, please don’t leave me alone…”

Before long Wilford breaks down, crying along with Chrome and Dr. Iplier, and there they remain until the other egos find them.

Later, Chrome will destroy everything in his room and scream until his voice processor gives out, trying to purge the grief from his circuitry.

Tomorrow, Wilford will be pulled away from Yandere’s body, sobbing and laughing but letting himself be dragged out of Yandere’s bedroom.

Forever, Dr. Iplier will have regret eating him from the inside, making him wish he could’ve prevented this, _all_ of this, making him wish he could go back to before that damn video and stop all this misery and death before it happened.

But for now, the Host sits in his library, shudders, and sighs.

“Sadistic, aren’t you?” he says to no one, voice cold and bitter. “The Host hopes you’re happy.”

> TRY AGAIN?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u bet i am hostie
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Sayonara = Goodbye (Interesting note: According to an article I found about different ways to say "goodbye" in Japanese, "sayonara" isn't actually used that often because it's what the author calls a "forever goodbye." The type of thing you'd say if you were breaking up with someone or going to space. Just food for thought :3)
> 
> Watakushi wa kare nashi de wa ikiraremasen = I can't live without him (this one might be inaccurate, apologies!)
> 
> Suggoku gomen ne = I'm truly sorry (the kind of apology you'd give to a friend)
> 
> Otouto = Little brother ( ;3c )
> 
> The last part will be out...probably Wednesday? A week from today at the latest.


	3. > YES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > SHOOT RIGHT
> 
> > YES

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *looks at the "last updated" date* did it........for real take me a month to finish this
> 
> I'M SORRY I CAN'T WRITE THINGS IN A NORMAL AMOUNT OF TIME D8 Hopefully this chapter is worth the wait?
> 
> Anyhow, here's the happy end most of you have been waiting for! Enjoy :D

> YES

“Well?” Chrome asks.

“Dark’s gonna be fine,” Dr. Iplier answers, relief clear in his tone, “The bullet wound is closing over. My guess is he’ll be waking up in a day or two.”

“What’s taking so long, then?” Chrome asks, suddenly irritated at Dark for being dead. He’s acutely aware of his best friend in the clinic bed beside him, and how it was worry over Dark that put him there.

“Well, nothing like this has ever happened before,” Dr. Iplier says, rubbing the back of his neck, “We’ve never been killed by the fans before, they’re usually the ones to bring us back.” He thinks for a moment. “I guess it just took them a while to figure out if they were interested enough in Dark to do that this time.”

“But Dark’s coming back,” Chrome says, more a statement than a question.

“He’s coming back,” Dr. Iplier repeats, seemingly unable to help grinning, “I’ll go let the others know. Keep an eye on Yan, would you?”

“Obviously,” Chrome says, miffed that the doctor even feels he has to ask.

“Alright, alright,” Dr. Iplier says, placating and half-laughing, as he leaves the clinic.

He calls a meeting with the other egos, and he can tell by the way they hold themselves as they file into the conference room that they suspect the worst. Once Dr. Iplier tells them the good news, the relief they feel is palpable in the air. Shoulders relax and heads lift up from staring at the floor. Wilford laughs, chastises the others for being so worried, but Dr. Iplier can see happy tears in his eyes. He gets back to the clinic in high spirits.

When he gets there, though, he sees Yandere awake and looking strangely sad, and Chrome looking worried. He frowns as he approaches them, and Chrome meets him halfway.

“Chrome, did you–” he starts to ask.

“Of course I did,” Chrome snaps, but then his voice lowers, “I told Yandere what you said, but…” He huffs, more concerned than annoyed. “…I don’t think he believed me.”

“Ah,” Dr. Ipier says. In a way, it makes a lot of sense. From the way Yandere was acting, he was practically going through every stage of grief, even if he didn’t know it himself. Once one gets to acceptance, it’s hard to go back. It’s not something people are equipped to do. After all, since when do people come back from the dead? Even if figments are more used to death, permanent death is still just as hard to deal with as it is for humans. In light of all of that, combined with how mentally unstable Yandere can be at the best of times, Dr. Iplier supposes he isn’t surprised.

“Let me talk to him,” he tells Chrome. He’s dealt with denial in patients before; this can’t be much different.

Yandere doesn’t look at him as he approaches the younger ego’s bedside, only stares down at his lap.

“Hey kid,” he greets, “How are you feeling? Sorry I had to sedate you back there.”

Yandere doesn’t answer, still doesn’t look up.

“Yan,” Dr. Iplier tries again, leaning down to get closer to Yandere, “Dark’s going to be okay. I checked on him myself, his wound is healing. He’ll be back in a couple days.” He gives Yandere a tiny smile. “Chin up, everything’s gonna be fine.”

Yandere finally looks up enough to meet Dr. Iplier’s eyes as his own fill with tears. Dr. Iplier can tell they aren’t happy ones.

“Hey now,” he murmurs, wrapping Yandere up in a hug, “You don’t have to cry, everything’s okay.”

“I-it’s been weeks,” Yandere sobs, “It’s never t-taken him so long, h-he’s never been killed b-by the fans before…” He grabs onto Dr. Iplier, not so much returning the hug as trying to ground himself. “…how d-do we know he’s coming back?”

“I told you, Yan, I examined him earlier,” Dr. Iplier replies, rubbing Yandere’s back, “The bullet wound’s getting better. It’s closing up and healing. Dark’ll be completely healed in a couple days, and it’ll be just like every other time he’s died.”

“I can’t, I c-can’t,” Yandere gasps, shaking his head, “I kept telling myself h-he’d be okay but it’s b-been so long…” He takes in a shuddering breath. “…I can’t g-get my hopes up again.”

“Yan–” Dr. Iplier begins, but Yandere cuts him off.

“I can’t, I can’t!” he yells. He pushes Dr. Iplier away with sudden ferocity and brings his hands to his head, clutching his hair. His eyes are red instead of their normal brown. “Stop! Just stop! I can’t!” He begins to cry with renewed vigor, curling up in a ball.

Dr. Iplier opens his mouth to speak but closes it after a moment. He knows from experience that nothing he says now will get through to Yandere, not when he’s in this state. As far as he knows, there’s only one person who can talk to Yandere when he’s like this.

He looks at Chrome, and Chrome looks back.

“Get Wilford?”

“Get Wilford.”

~~~

Unfortunately, getting Wilford doesn’t work out as well as they’d hoped.

He’s at least able to comfort Yandere and get him to accept Dr. Iplier’s care, but even he can’t convince Yandere that Dark is going to come back. Dr. Iplier wishes there was more he could do, but he knows that Yandere won’t be okay until Dark finally recovers.

Still, he takes care of him as best he can. He makes Yandere eat and drink, tries to make him sleep. But even with Wilford’s involvement Yandere is reluctant to listen to the doctor, and the young ego seems nearly incapable of sleeping. Every time he tries to nap or go to bed for the night, he can only manage an hour or so before a nightmare wakes him. He’s healing, but it’s slow-going.

It takes two more exhausting days for Dark to wake up.

~~~

Coming back from death feels as it always does: Like rising up from a tar pit, slow and heavy as death’s tendrils struggle to keep its victim pinned. Dark can’t say he’s used to the feeling, not even after all these years, but he’s at least able to bear it with minimal lingering discomfort. Still, he can feel how different it is this time, even in death’s timeless void. Rising up is harder than it tends to be, the pain from the wound that killed him is stronger, more acute. The moments before his death are a blur, but they’re all he has to hold onto as he stays trapped, breathing in the blackness. It’s as if Dark doesn’t exist at all, as if he’s merely an extension of the endless pit of death. Finally, though, Dark can feel the inky deep letting him go, and he trudges towards the surface, back towards life at last.

He wakes in his bed, and is unsurprised to find himself there. There’s no way the other egos would’ve left his body out in the open where it fell. He sits up with a fog still over his head; death’s residual effect. He lifts a hand to rub his temple, groaning half in discomfort, half in irritation.

“Darky, you’re awake!” calls a familiar voice. Dark looks up, and sure enough, there’s Wilford, standing in the middle of the room. “How ya feeling?”

“I’ve felt worse,” Dark says as he stops rubbing his head. And it’s true: The fans may have killed him for a while, but they brought him back with a vengeance. Maybe Dark has a headache, but he can already feel how much stronger he’s become, feel how his aura shivers around him, anxious to try out its new power.

“That sure was a good joke,” Wilford laughs, “You had everybody fooled, even I was starting to believe it for a minute there!” Wilford winks conspiratorially. “But that bit’s between us.”

Dark’s just woken up, but he’s already tired again.

“Of course,” he replies, getting up from the bed, “How long as it been?”

“About a month?” Wilford says, shrugging. “You let it go on a little long, Dark.” His smile looks more forced, now.

“I apologize,” Dark says, “That…wasn’t my intention.” He supposes that’s the truth.

“This–hm,” Wilford says, face screwing up in thought, “I’m, ha, getting déjà vu all of a sudden.” He grins too wide. “Funny, huh?”

Dark grits his teeth. He knows exactly what’s going on, exactly what Wilford’s broken mind is trying to remind him of. He wonders how well – or how poorly – Wilford’s been holding himself together since his death.

“I mean, it was a joke,” Wilford continues, shaking his head, “A goof. A harmless gaff. I didn’t…I mean…you’re fine.”

“Yes, Wil,” Dark says evenly, “I’m fine.”

“You’re fine,” Wilford repeats. He swallows, and when he speaks again, his voice is strained. “It was really…really strange, not having you around.” He steps towards Dark uncertainly, as though he expects Dark to drop dead again at any moment. “Don’t disappear for so long next time.”

“I’ll try not to,” Dark says, calm, placating. He takes a step towards Wilford, just as the pink ego did to him a moment ago. Wilford swallows again.

“Promise me you won’t,” Wilford says, lip trembling.

Dark knows better than to make promises he’s not completely certain he can keep.

“Alright, Wil, I promise,” he says anyway.

Wilford nods, expression tight and sad. He suddenly closes the distance between them, moving forward and hugging Dark tight, too tight.

“Glad you’re back, old chap,” he murmurs into Dark’s shoulder, “I missed you.”

Dark stiffens, sighs, but lets Wilford have this, just this once. He hugs Wilford back loosely. He can’t say he thought much of Wilford or anyone else while he was dead, not with the agony of it overpowering everything, but he knows what his friend needs to hear.

“I’m glad to be back,” he says, “I missed you, too.”

They stay like that for a while as Wilford’s mind returns fully to the present.

~~~

Once Wilford feels better, Dark asks about Yandere. He knows how high the young ego’s emotions run even on a good day, and he hates to think of how Yandere must’ve reacted to Dark’s nearly permanent death.

When Wilford tells him that Yandere’s in the clinic, Dark is worried but not surprised.

Wilford lets him go alone, likely intending to go spread the word to other egos that Dark’s woken up. Dark is fine with that, and figures it’s better that way. To hear Wilford explain Yandere’s condition, Dark’s the only person who has any chance of making the younger ego feel like himself again. Dark can’t help but remember Wilford telling him how long he’s been dead as he poofs into the clinic.

His appearance startles Dr. Iplier, who’s half-bent into a cabinet getting a IV bag filled with some clear liquid. He sharply leans out of the cabinet and jumps just as fast to see Dark standing there.

“Jeez,” he says. Dark raises an eyebrow.

“I’ve been dead for a month and that’s how you greet me?” Dark asks.

“I’m not used to you coming out of nowhere anymore,” Dr. Iplier says, but his expression relaxes, “Glad you’re back, Dark.”

“Mm,” Dark hums, “I’m glad to no longer be dead.”

“Well, you look fine, so I know why you’re here,” Dr. Iplier says. He points backwards over his shoulder. “Yan’s in a bed back there taking a nap, and I’d advise you to be quiet. He hasn’t exactly been getting a lot of sleep lately.” Dark nods, and walks forward towards the room in the back of the clinic where the patient beds are.

It doesn’t take him long to get there and find Yandere, sleeping in the bed closest to the doorway. His skin is paler than normal, and the bags under his eyes are an awful shade of purple. There’s an IV in his arm leading to a bag like the ones Dr. Iplier is gathering at the front of the clinic. The sight of Yandere makes Dark want to rush to him and scoop him up, but he knows doing that would wake him in an instant. So he walks around to Yandere’s bedside, finding a chair already there. Sitting in it is a portable charger, small and square and red. Dark figures Chrome must have been the one who left it there, knowing how close he is to Yandere. Dark can’t help but feel grateful that Yandere, at the very least, wasn’t alone while Dark was gone.

He moves the charger to a different chair nearby and sits before reaching out and running a gentle hand through Yandere’s red bangs. They’re duller in color and not as fluffy as they were the last time Dark saw them. He remembers Yandere’s disappointment at hearing about Mark’s plan for a video on Valentine’s Day, remembers reassuring Yandere that there’d be plenty of time for them for them to make the day special after filming was over. He feels guilty, in a way. He knows it’s not his fault the fans decided to take out some aggression on him, and he knows full well that Yandere wouldn’t dream of blaming him. Still, Dark can’t help but feel bad for leaving Yandere alone for so long. Was he really gone for month? Dr. Iplier hadn’t corrected him when he mentioned it. Yandere probably knows the exact number of days, he’s probably kept religious track of them since Dark died. Realizing that makes Dark feel worse.

How did this silly little ego make Dark so sentimental? How did young, naïve, and overemotional Yandere stir something in Dark? For that matter, how did Dark, cold and cruel and distant, manage to fall in love with Yandere? He knows that if he brought it up to Yandere, he’d say it was fate. That it was fate that they met each other, and that Dark was always destined to be his senpai, and Yandere his kohai in return. Dark gave up on believing in fate a long time ago and doubts he could believe in it again if he tried, but being with Yandere makes him want to.

Dark snaps out of his thoughts when he notices Yandere beginning to move. His hands, formerly still at his sides, twitch into fists. His brow furrows and a tiny, almost imperceptible whimper escapes his throat. Dark’s seen this happen enough times to know that Yandere is having a nightmare. He remembers Dr. Iplier’s comment about how Yandere hasn’t been sleeping well, and he thinks he can guess what Yandere is dreaming about. He leans forward to pet Yandere’s hair again, hoping the younger ego will feel it in his dream. It doesn’t seem to work, though, and Yandere gets more and more fidgety by the moment. Dark is about to speak to him when Yandere’s eyes pop open and he shoots up, breathing hard with tears in his eyes.

He’s so wrought with emotion that he doesn’t notice Dark next to him, and Dark, for once, isn’t sure what to do. He doesn’t want to startle Yandere too badly, but then again, he did just wake from a nightmare. Dark’s arms are itching to pull Yandere close, but he decides to go slow.

“Yandere, are you alright?” he asks. A silly question, but it’s a start. Yandere flinches despite Dark’s quiet tone, and stares at him with wide eyes. He’s silent as Dark leaves his chair to sit on the edge of Yandere’s bed. Dark expects any number of things to happen, but the one thing he doesn’t expect is what he gets.

Yandere’s expression falls from shock into sorrow as he curls in on himself, burying his face in his hands.

“I’m still dreaming,” he moans, “You aren’t real.”

It takes every ounce of self-control that Dark has not to grab Yandere and hug him tight.

“You aren’t, love,” he murmurs instead. He allows himself to take Yandere’s hands and gently pull them away from his face. Yandere is crying, big tears pouring down his cheeks as he looks at Dark, his addled brain trying to make sense of what he’s seeing.

“Yami?” Yandere gasps, voice weak and shaky.

“I’m here, Yan,” Dark whispers, “I’ll never leave you again, I promise.”

At that, Yandere flings himself into Dark’s arms, lips crashing into Dark’s so hard that their teeth clack together. Dark kisses Yandere back with equal fervor, letting go of everything he’s been holding back. Yandere has to break the kiss quickly, sobbing harshly as his arms wrap around Dark’s shoulders, his legs wrap around Dark’s waist, and as he buries his head into Dark’s shoulder. Dark, for his part, holds Yandere tight in his lap and strokes his hair, answering Yandere’s desperate ramblings with soothing words.

“I thought, I th-thought,” Yandere sobs into Dark’s shoulder.

“I know, darling, I’m sorry I scared you,” Dark murmurs.

_“Ai shiteru, ai shiteru, ai shiteru,”_ Yandere repeats like a mantra as he clings to Dark.

“I love you, too, my dearest one,” Dark soothes, “It’s alright, shhh…”

At some point, Dr. Iplier pokes his head in to make sure the pair are doing well. He finds Yandere curled up crying on Dark’s lap, and Dark rubbing Yandere’s back and pressing kisses into his hair. Neither of them notice Dr. Iplier, who quickly leaves to give them their privacy.

After a while, Yandere manages to cry himself out, but stays rooted in Dark’s lap, hands gripping the back of Dark’s jacket. He doesn’t ever want to let go. He lays his head against Dark’s chest and closes his eyes. He wants to stay awake and be with Dark a while longer, but crying takes a lot out of him and he hasn’t gotten much sleep lately anyway. His body aches for rest, and Dark’s arms, strong and secure and cool around him, are too comfortable to fight.

“Tired, love?” Dark asks, a smile in his voice. Yandere relishes the feeling of Dark’s chest moving beneath his cheek as he talks. One of many little things Yandere thought he’d never have again.

“Mmm,” Yandere murmurs, too exhausted to speak properly. His heart swells when he feels Dark kiss the top of his head.

“Go to sleep, Yandere, I’ll be right here,” Dark assures him, moving a hand to thread his fingers through Yandere’s hair.

“Promise?” Yandere asks, voice hardly a breath. He’s almost too tired to make any sound at all, but he can’t let himself sleep if Dark won’t be there when he wakes up.

“I promise,” Dark replies. He kisses Yandere again. “I’m glad to be with you again, my cherry blossom.”

Even as he starts to nod off, Yandere’s heart trills with emotion at the pet name. There’s so much he wants to say in response to Dark’s words.

“Me too,” is all he can manage before he falls asleep in Dark’s lap.

~~~

It takes time before things go back to normal.

Meetings resume right away, and everyone’s workload increases to make up for lost time. Dark is, in a way, glad that they didn’t try to hold meetings and make decisions in his absence. He doesn’t exactly trust the others to work effectively without his input, especially since Wilford would’ve led the helm in his stead. Dark can only imagine what schemes Wilford might’ve dreamed up if he’d been so inclined. Wilford himself goes back to normal quickly; after the encounter Dark had with him after Dark came back, he goes back to his happy self as though nothing had ever gone wrong in the first place. Likewise, just seeing that Dark is alive and kicking is enough for the other egos.

Really, the only thing that takes a long time to go back to normal is Yandere’s behavior.

For the first few weeks, Yandere is practically glued to Dark’s side, clinging to his arm like he’ll disappear if Yandere lets go. Dark ends up letting him come along to meetings, knowing that Yandere might have a panic attack if Dark isn’t within touching distance. Even before Dark died it was common for Yandere to sit in Dark’s lap while he worked, and now, Yandere does it all the time. Dark lets him without hesitation; he has a lot of work to do, after all, and it’s nice to be around Yandere when he does it. Dark’s days are spent with Yandere constantly beside him.

The nights, though, are when it’s hardest. Yandere sleeps with Dark every night, of course, and Dark can’t help but selfishly enjoy it. But Yandere always had a problem with nightmares, and even after Dark comes back he seems to have them every other night. No matter how tight Dark holds him, nightmares always seem to come. Dark often finds himself woken by Yandere when they happen, but he’s more concerned for the nights he isn’t and when he only knows by Yandere’s jumpiness and tired eyes the next day that he even _had_ a nightmare. Yandere hates to inconvenience Dark on a normal day, and the younger ego already seems to hate how he can’t be away from Dark for a minute without his anxiety spiking. But Dark is patient with him, keeps him close, and soothes him when nightmares come. Though he’s accustomed to getting up before Yandere and starting the day early, he stays in bed in the morning until Yandere wakes up. It takes a while for Yandere to stop looking at Dark each morning like he expected Dark’s presence to be just another dream.

Eventually, though, Yandere becomes comfortable enough to be without Dark every moment and spend his days as normal. Dark almost mistakes it as a signal for the end of the whole mess, before he notices Yandere suddenly begin acting strange. Not bad, only…secretive. Dark can’t imagine what Yandere would possibly want to keep from him, though.

He finds out one day when Mark calls him out of the blue.

Dark is surprised; he’d already made it _very_ clear to Mark that he was back and alive and deeply unappreciative of being dead for a month. He would’ve guessed he’d made Mark too afraid to ever talk to him again. His curiosity gets the better of him, though, and he answers Mark’s call.

“I hope there’s a reason you’re calling, Mark,” Dark says, speaking as though Mark is interrupting something important. He isn’t, but Dark enjoys keeping him on his toes.

“Yeah, it’s…” Mark takes in a breath. “Amy’s missing.”

“Are you sure she isn’t just out somewhere?” Dark asks, mostly disinterested.

“Yes, I’m sure!” Mark cries. He seems to immediately realize how bad an idea it is to yell at Dark. “Sorry, I just…yeah, I’m sure. It’s been two days; even if she was taking a trip by herself she would’ve told someone, but she didn’t. She’s not answering her phone, either. None of us can get a hold of her.” Mark’s voice is strained and strung out, and Dark can sense there’s something Mark isn’t saying.

“Call the police, then,” Dark sighs, “This isn’t my problem.”

“We _did._ ” Mark is seething, almost whining. “They went to Kathryn and Amy’s place, dusted for fingerprints and everything to make sure nothing weird happened. And you know who’s fingerprints they found?”

“Enlighten me.”

“Mine. The police practically tore my apartment apart looking for evidence of kidnapping, but they couldn’t find a thing. And I think we both know I’m innocent.”

“Are you accusing _me?"_   Dark asks, half-laughing. “Mark, what on earth could I possibly gain from kidnapping Amy? Not to mention that if I _did,_ I certainly wouldn’t have left any evidence behind.”

“I know, but it had to have been an ego. There’s no other explanation.”

“And you wish for me to find out which ego stole your dearest Amy and bring her back to you?”

Mark’s shudder of revulsion at how Dark refers to Amy is practically audible through the phone. Dark smiles as Mark answers.

“Yes. I know that video killed you for a while, but it also made you more powerful, so–”

“Mark,” Dark interrupts, “Are you trying to _bargain_ with me?” He laughs, deep and gravelly and somehow more sinister than his normal tone, as Mark sputters through the phone. “Oh, that’s rich. You’re not a smart man, but you certainly are brave.” Dark’s laughter peters out as he sighs. “But I suppose you have a point. I won’t make any promises, but if I happen to come across Amy, I’ll let you know.”

“Alright, thanks,” Mark replies. There’s relief in his voice, along with a note of resignation, as if he acknowledges that this is the best he can get from Dark. “So, bye.”

“Until next time,” Dark says, unable to help his shark-toothed grin.

Dark’s thought through the whole situation by the time he hangs up. Amy’s disappearance is news to him, but it only takes him a moment to figure out the culprit. It was an ego, after all, and who among them has the means to conduct a kidnapping? Who among them has a motive?

Speaking of the devil, Dark looks up from putting his phone in his pocket to see Yandere skipping towards him. No wonder the younger ego had been acting secretive. Still, Dark can’t help but smile as Yandere stops in front of him and stands on his toes to kiss him.

“Hello there, love,” Dark says after the kiss.

“ _Konnichiwa,_ senpai,” Yandere replies, beaming.

“Funny you should come by,” Dark murmurs, letting his voice drop low as he moves his arms around Yandere. Yandere eats it up, drawing himself close and smiling up at Dark.

“Oh~?” he giggles, “Why?”

Dark leans forward, almost kissing Yandere again but instead brushing his lips just over Yandere’s, grinning to himself as Yandere tries to capture them with his own. Dark moves his lips to Yandere’s ear, taking a moment to breathe in. He feels Yandere shiver with chills and excitement, and grins harder. He almost feels a little bad for what he’s about to do.

“I just got off the phone with Mark,” he whispers, “It seems that Amy is missing.”

Yandere jolts with surprise in Dark’s hold, and when Dark pulls his head back, he sees Yandere’s face turning red and his eyes going wide.

“O-oh?” he stammers, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

Yandere is a pretty convincing liar when he wants to be, except when it comes to Dark. After the trick Dark just pulled, Yandere doesn’t have a prayer of lying successfully.

Which, of course, is exactly what Dark is counting on.

“Would you happen to know anything about that, darling?” Dark asks. He’s still grinning, but the extra curl he puts into his voice on the last word makes Yandere shiver again, but for different reasons this time.

“Noooo…” Yandere mumbles, looking away as his face turns even redder.

“Yandereplier,” Dark begins, letting a drop of sternness into his voice, “We both know what the truth is, and I’d much rather you tell it to me yourself rather than make me force it out of you.”

Yandere looks back at Dark when he hears his full name, and the longer Dark talks, the more Yandere’s expression changes. His pupils go huge, his blush recedes to a faint pink, and his lips seem to part on their own accord. His hands, still on Dark’s back, grip onto him tight. Any fear of being caught that Dark instilled in Yandere has now become attraction instead. Dark almost sighs.

“Yandere.” Dark leans forward and bumps the younger ego’s forehead with his own. “I’m waiting.”

Yandere blinks and shakes his head as though snapping out of a trance.

“Alright, fine, I kidnapped Amy,” he mutters, pouting. His expression quickly softens as he moves his hands from Dark’s back to his chest, going for his jacket buttons. “I admitted it Yami, can we–”

“Where is she?” Dark asks, grabbing Yandere’s wrists to halt his hands. Yandere pouts again, deeper this time. Dark can’t help but smile a little at the cute expression. “I need to know where she is, Yandere, I promised Mark that much.”

“Yamiiii,” Yandere whines, cheeks turning dark red again. He leans up to press heated kisses against Dark’s lips. “I’ll tell you later, please–”

“You’ll show me now,” Dark insists, pulling away from Yandere’s kisses. He doesn’t doubt that Yandere’s being honest now, but he also isn’t about to give up the game so soon. Yandere sighs, loud and dramatic, as he moves away from Dark and pulls his hands out of Dark’s hold.

“It’s your fault for making me feel like this, you know,” he grumbles.

“And I’ll take full responsibility for it _after_ you show me where you’ve put Amy,” Dark assures him.

Yandere perks up a little at the promise before walking off, letting Dark follow.

Yandere leads Dark down past every floor to the lobby, and down one more level to the basement. Dark supposes he isn’t surprised. Hardly any egos come down here; there’s hardly anything to come down here for in the first place. Ego Inc’s power generators and computer systems are stored here, and every once in a while one or two of the Googles will have to come here to make repairs, but that’s the extent of it.

Well, almost. There’s also the cell.

“The cell” is exactly what it sounds like: A reinforced chamber deep in the basement, nearly impossible to break out of. It’s soundproofed and has no windows or glass, preventing its occupant from hearing or seeing the outside world. There’s even an element of magic imbued in it, something to prevent a person from teleporting out of it. The cell was made to contain any threat, including any of the egos. With so many unstable personalities in one building, it pays to have some insurance. Dark already knows, though, that the cell’s current occupant isn’t nearly as dangerous as any of the egos.

Yandere leads Dark to the screens along the wall beside the cell, showing a camera feed of the person inside. Sure enough, it’s Amy who sits against one wall, disheveled and clearly upset but mostly unharmed. She does have some nasty bruising on her neck, though. Dark raises an eyebrow at the sight.

“Was that necessary?” Dark asks, pointing at Amy’s neck. Yandere shrugs.

“She was squirming too much. I didn’t know when Kathryn was gonna get home, so I had to be quick. I tried just dragging her out, but that was taking too long.”

“So you strangled her?”

“Only a little bit! It was either that or bang her head against a wall until she passed out, and that would’ve made a mess.”

Dark looks away from the camera feed to face Yandere. The younger ego has a determined look on his face, like he’s waiting for Dark to scold him but doesn’t think it’d be deserved. In truth, Dark is a little impressed. Yandere did such a good job of making Amy disappear that it apparently took some time for Mark and his friends to figure it out. And Yandere has a point; half-strangling Amy was a better idea than cracking her head against the wall. Less chance of permanent damage, and no blood left behind.

Still, though, Dark knows he can’t let Amy stay trapped here forever. Mark already knows her disappearance is an ego’s doing, and he’s liable to hold back on ego-related content as punishment if he doesn’t get her back.

“How long do you intend to keep her here?” Dark asks Yandere.

“Twenty-five more days,” Yandere answers, “She’s already been here for two.” His expression darkens. “I had to go twenty-seven days thinking my senpai was gone forever, so now Mark has to suffer through that, too.”

Dark lets out a sympathetic sigh, moving forward and gently kissing Yandere’s forehead. The younger ego squeaks with surprise as his cheeks turn pink.

“H-hey, I’m being serious here!” he whines.

“I know you are.” Dark kisses Yandere’s forehead again before straightening. “I know how much you want revenge, but keeping Amy here is only going to make things difficult. Mark won’t give any of us a second of screentime if she isn’t returned to him quickly and unharmed, you know that.”

“I know,” Yandere mutters, “Are you gonna make me let her go?” Yandere looks up at Dark with big, sad eyes and a soft, gentle pout.

“Don’t look at me like that, love,” Dark says.

“Yamiiii,” Yandere whimpers, letting his pretty brown eyes fill with crocodile tears, “Pleeease? I had to go so long without you, it’s only fair…”

Dark is not fooled. He is a master manipulator, he was created as such. He can recognize effortlessly when someone else is trying to manipulate him in return. It’s impossible to trick him. He used his own manipulative skill to get Yandere to admit everything, he will not let Yandere manipulate him in return. The younger ego is being far too obvious; it’s clear he’s not really this upset. When Dark tells him no, his unshed tears will vanish and he’ll pout, grumpy but largely unaffected. There is no reason to let him have his way.

And yet.

If there’s one trick Dark is helpless to, it’s Yandere’s puppy-dog eyes. Maybe the younger ego picked something up from Dark, or maybe Dark is just too fond of him. Whatever it is, those sad eyes make Dark’s resolve crack every time Yandere uses them. One day he’ll get as used to them as he is to every other trick in the book, but for now, they still very much hold power over him. Not to mention the reason Yandere gave for kidnapping Amy, and how it reminds Dark of how sad and scared and lonely the younger ego had been in his absence.

“Alright, fine,” he finally sighs. Yandere beams. “On some conditions,” Dark clarifies.

“What conditions?” Yandere asks.

“I expect Amy to be perfectly healthy and unscathed when you take her back home,” Dark begins, “Anything less and Mark will have all our heads. That means you’re careful with her, and that you don’t let her starve.”

“Okay,” Yandere sighs, clearly annoyed at the prospect of babysitting Amy for a month, but willing to do it to enact his revenge.

“In addition,” Dark continues, “You absolutely need to keep this secret. If any other ego finds out about this and brings it to my attention, I’m going to have to take their side, and you aren’t allowed to let it slip how long I’ve known about it.”

“Really?” Yandere whines.

“I have a reputation to uphold, love,” Dark says with a smirk, “Besides, if it gets around to Mark that I knew where Amy was and didn’t say a thing about it, who knows what his retribution would be.”

“I guess,” Yandere sighs, but quickly perks up. “If I do all that, then I can keep Amy here and you won’t tell Mark?”

“It’ll be like this entire conversation never happened,” Dark assures him.

“ _Sugoi!_ Thank you, Yami~!” Yandere exclaims, smiling big. Dark can’t help but smile back, even as he shakes his head.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Dark chuckles.

“Speaking of loving me,” Yandere giggles, walking up to Dark until the two are chest to chest, “Didn’t you say something about taking responsibility earlier?”

“Well, no need to be so coy,” Dark teases. Yandere gazes up at him with pink cheeks and half-lidded eyes.

“I can be more obvious if you want me to,” he whispers, standing up on his tiptoes, intending to kiss Dark.

“So can I,” Dark answers in a low voice as his and Yandere’s lips get closer.

Right as their lips begin to brush against each other, Dark suddenly snatches Yandere up in his arms, lifting him off the ground and teleporting them both to Dark’s room in the same moment. Yandere shrieks with laughter as he’s spun around and deposited on Dark’s bed, but he quiets as Dark kisses him, moving onto the bed and on top of him. Dark runs his hands down Yandere’s sides, letting them push up his shirt and move up his chest. Yandere sighs and shivers at the touch, wrapping his arms around Dark’s neck and curling his fingers into the back of Dark’s jacket.

When Yandere moves his hands to undo Dark’s jacket buttons a few moments later, Dark doesn’t stop him this time.

~~~

In the library on the first floor of Ego Inc., the Host shakes his head and tries not to grin.

“Dark is a piece of work,” he says, as though he knows how much of an understatement that is, “But Ego Inc. would be worse off without him. It’s good he’s back.” He looks up and lets himself smile at the empty air. “Thank you.”

> END


End file.
